


Carpe Diem

by Cassia_Bea



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dante is a hot mess on the way to become a wreck, Devil May Cry is on the road!, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Nero comes along, Other, That Travelling Demon Hunter AU no one asked for, Traveller Dante, Worldbuilding, spells, that fun things, we going for a trip bois, we gonna do vagueness to a good destination
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28697772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassia_Bea/pseuds/Cassia_Bea
Summary: In the span of one night, Dante managed to acquire a child during his drunken festivity.Somehow, that led to the biggest decision he ever made.(Or that time when the devil hunter did something and it ended with him taking Devil May Cry on the road.)
Relationships: Dante & Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Carpe Diem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language and this is not beta-read. Everything is Capcom's property except this story.

Anyone rarely found answers at the bottom of a bottle because that would only lead to stupid decisions and questionable choices.

Dante begged to differ, and maybe he liked to since he was drunk at the moment. He would never admit it, but this was the only thing that could deafened him from the voice of reason which somehow still hung around after all the mishaps he liked to plunge himself into. Including his latest one, as of currently ongoing.

He had stashed the bottles behind Lady’s back. Finding a new place to hide them from her attentive eyes. His plan worked and Lady was none the wiser when she waved goodbye and went home on her bike. They had come together since today was ‘that’ day. Some pizzas and take-outs were ordered, in the rare time that Lady herself allowed the indulgence at the food. Not to mention the diabetes with the sundaes and elevated blood alcohol concentration with the beers and whiskeys. Once they did get shit-faced drunk in the first year they did this, though Lady never shared his vices. And while he was glad, he wasn’t dragging someone else down the hole, it also meant he couldn’t drown himself when that was all he wanted to do.

So, he went out early, buying himself a box full of those bitter fermented liquid trapped within bottles and shoved them into his closet. Lady would never go into his more private space; she was a good friend like that. Dante knew she had her own burdens to deal with, and he didn’t want anyone to even have a glimpse at the absolute shitshow he was making of himself. He stayed by the door until he couldn’t see her anymore, then proceeded to shut and locked it, before making his way to close all the curtains. He didn’t need even a bird to see him. It helped with easing himself, that absolute reality that no one would be able to know and see him being an absolutely pathetic man in his own abode.

When the dizziness hit, Dante knew he had almost downed everything. Yet frustratingly, it wasn’t enough. Everything still hurt. Still throbbing. His scar was smarting and that made him even worse. Dante hated this, hated everything about this, but he was too used with it. He really was a special case; he should be flattered. Finally, something that he excelled in.

The frame on his desk was pushed into the drawer for he couldn’t bear to let even a sliver of his mother to look at him like this. Dante should always be that annoying, loud, and energetic child in that faraway memory. Not this, no, never. Eva didn’t deserve knowing the child that she had lovingly raised became this mishmash of a being that hated everything and, at the same time, nothing about his own self. Dante knew he was letting her upbringing and tutelage went wasteful. Letting them rot despite being perfectly preserved with him.

It was during his vomiting session that the idea struck him.

\---

Everyone hated him, that was his verdict.

They spoke behind his back and what the adults did, the children followed. He never quite made out what they were talking about, but he knew it was about him. The grown-ups were more hushed about it, whispering too low for his ears to pick up. The children though, they were a different matter. The boys and girls wanted him to hear and sometimes, even uttered words that he couldn’t even understand when the older ones passed him by.

He didn’t want to know so he hid himself away. At the library even when he couldn’t completely read yet, at the garden when he finished his meals early, or at the fountain but lately he tried to avoid it. Some of the boys noticed him and had pushed him, drenching him from head to toe. The matron didn’t appreciate having to expend money to get him new clothes as he couldn’t fit in any they had at the storage. Since then, he only went to his two sanctuaries. The old librarian man was kind enough to let him loiter around as long as he kept quiet. That was easy enough, he never liked to talk much anyway.

But today, the place was closed since it was a holiday. They had no schools, and everyone was free to do anything. He saw that to be dreadful. When lunch was done and over with, he snatched several small cakes and a bottle before he tucked them inside his cape and ran for the garden. It was a wide place, filled with trees and many shrubs. There was a maze too, he made for it. He could already hear the chatters of the other children and he didn’t want to be their plaything. He regretted not to take the offer the old man made the day before. If he did, he should have at least a picture book to read.

No matter, at least here was much safer and peaceful. He could release his hood and followed after the butterflies. Sometimes he could also spot squirrels and even bunnies. They were much nicer to him, more so when he offered them food. They didn’t take more than they needed too, unlike the couple of girls and boys he tried to befriend. He had almost gone the entire day on an empty stomach before one of the cooks took pity. Slipping him some cold bread and cheese with a small glass of milk. He always remembered that cook’s face though lately she was absent from the kitchen.

The sun was setting too fast for his liking. He had been having fun with some birds and a dog who came sniffing to him. He didn’t want to go back, but also didn’t want to be shivering outside. The teachers at class said that a home was filled with warmth and everyone was happy with full belies and kind laughter. He never saw the place as such. All he got was some hard bed and threadbare blanket, a stomach that sometimes growled at the small food he was given, and the only laugh he knew of were jeers whenever he walked through the hallways.

He didn’t feel anything, just a coldness that he wanted to be rid of but couldn’t. Sometimes, he wished the star would grant his plea. Sometimes, he hoped that his prayers to the white statue they bowed to were listened. He just wanted to go somewhere. Out there where he could walk without hunching, where he could greet others without that scathing look, and most of all, he wanted to not to hide himself.

He looked at the sky, now glimmered as the sun had completely gone. He stared at them and clasped his hands. A plea and a prayer. A child’s wish.

After he opened his eyes once more, his right arm _hurt._

\---

He did it. Dante fucking did it.

The smell of sulfur and burnt wood invaded his nostrils but he ignored them. The hunter crawled on the floor, coming near to the circle. The crystal glowed, humming with his energy and the blood dropped onto it. The light it gave was gold, inundating with his energy. He couldn’t believe it, his mother’s spell actually worked. He had first thought it would end in disaster, himself not having the right focus to repeatedly draw and redraw the lines. His incantations were slurred, and he might have overdone it with the bloodletting but somehow, he succeeded.

He flexed his hands before holding the crystal in his hands. It answered to him. Dante would have been satisfied to view incomplete images, when it showed a different thing.

An island. Its denizens wearing capes and all looked respectful. The buildings were old and gothic. There were big, looming cathedrals and smaller churches. He widened his eyes when it showed him the statue of Sparda. The weirdness escalated when he noticed how those humans worshipped his father. A demon as a god?

He shook the crystal, wondering if it didn’t understand him, but he knew that when it glowed meant it was working. What the hell, was he too inebriated to even concentrate the smallest of thoughts? Fuck, he wasted so much too. This was one big joke he pulled on himself. But Dante let the pictures filtered in, finding himself watching them through the small crystal. The hunter was even beginning to enjoy them until he saw the child.

_Since when did Vergil?_

Dante stood up; the motion made him dizzy for a second before he scrutinized the boy. It couldn’t be, but what did he actually know about his brother? Aside from being a total asshole, making him climbed the demonic edifice, giving him Rebellion’s loving tip, and then fucking off to the Underworld after Dante somehow won their pissing competition. One that he hadn’t wanted to even join in the first place.

But his mind just wouldn’t connect that _somehow,_ Vergil, his frigid pompous ass of a brother, could be willing to do the tingo-tango horizontal thingy with someone.

He really wanted this for all to be a fever dream. One which he would wake up from by the toilet or the bathtub. He really did, though no matter the harsh pinching and punching, reality only solidified that yes, he was still definitely drunk, but not too much to even pass out. Dane knew he should have bought the higher alcohol ones.

He had almost decided to cut his energy off, sparing him the disappointment and distant bitterness when he saw the little boy doubled over. Face scrunching and his hand holding his other arm. He seemed to be in pain, even screaming didn’t come out of his mouth. The child was stubborn though, he dragged himself bit by bit back to where he came from. His cape dirtied and face splotchy with tears and dirt. He didn’t give up until he dropped into a corner of a building. Cringing and gritting his teeth, trying his best to grip his arm hard to stop the pain.

Dante noticed his right arm glowed. No, not just glowing, but _morphing_ into something else. The nails elongating and the bones cracking. It was a feat for the boy to not shout in agony. The hunter knew it was something demonic, and he also knew it could kill the boy if someone didn’t come.

_He would be all alone going through this torture._

Fires entered his head. Crackling, they swallowed his vision, and he remembered the sheer _heat_ of it inside the cramped space. Remembered how he wished that his mother stayed by his side. How much he was worried and scared for all of them.

Eva’s voice rang in his mind and Dante ran out. Blasting the window, uncaring at the loud noise he made this late, and _took off._ He never used his Trigger like this, electing to always hide it unless absolutely needed. That was the least thing he thought about.

All he could focus now was the boy the pull of the crystal guided him to.

\---

It was too much. He didn’t know something could hurt hurt hurt this much.

Bashing his head against the stones were useless and made the pain much more felt. No one was outside, all of them eating dinner. He could hear the utensils and chatters among the things he tried to focus on to ignore the pain. He didn’t like crying because that meant he would be picked on more, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes and head were so, so tired. He wanted to sleep, but the pain hadn’t gone away.

He was scared at his arm. It looked deformed now, and it was moving. His own arm seemed to also hate him. He needed to go to one of the adults for help. But he couldn’t even move. His whole body wanted out from this. Wanted someone to just end this pain. It really, really hurt.

He held onto his arm and bit his lips, tasting blood. It didn’t taste good. Nobody looked for him, not even the woman who was responsible for his group. He looked once more to the sky, begging and pleading. Someone, everyone, anyone! He didn’t understand what was happening and he was afraid. He was alone and he didn’t want to this by himself. It was too lonely, too much of nothing.

He finally screamed. Loud and shrill. For something, everything, anything. His arm was turning, it looked grotesque. Mean. It looked like those monsters he saw from the tales. He didn’t want to become one, he would be bullied more. Would be pushed away more.

No, no, he didn’t want that!

\---

Dante almost crashed.

He managed to pull through at the very last second, though the stained glass was still cracked. He dusted the branches and leaves off before looking around for the source of that voice. He had to hurry; the hunter already heard commotion coming from the inside. He rubbed some debris away from his hair, scanning the dark and luscious garden. The moon provided light for his enhanced eyes. After several minutes, the voice whimpered and almost screamed again as he spotted the boy.

“Hey, hey, kid,” he knelt. “Can you hear me?”

Of fucking course not, genius, the poor boy was hunching over. Already on the way to delirium with the way his arm glowed. Dante clicked his tongue, hands trying to pry the child from the ground. He clumsily held his face.

“Listen, if you can, alright? My name is Dante, and I’m here to help,” he said. Finding it strange how confident he voiced that out. “Here, come here, kid. I’m not gonna hurt you, I just want to look at your arm, and see if I can do anything about it.”

The boy looked at him with bloodshot eyes and snots, eerily clear despite the cringing and scrunching. He surprised him when the small child literally threw himself at him.

“Please, help,” he croaked. “Help please, I want to get away.”

Dante held him, hesitant to just leave because this was obviously some sort of a monastery or orphanage. He couldn’t just _steal_ a child even if this one shared similarity with his brother. With him since they were twins in every sense of the word.

The next occurrence made him decided otherwise.

A man yelled, “There he is!”

The boy was close to hysterics, “No! No, please don’t take me back. Please, please, please,” he shook his head hard. “Please, dear god, I don’t want to.” The way he looked at Dante was too much. So full of an innocent hope that he was undeserving of.

“There’s someone here!” Another cried. “He’s kidnapping that brat!”

There was another one, more muffled and muttering. “Ah, I knew that child was no good. He even got himself into this situation!”

Those were just few words, but he was familiar with both tones. The approaching group had something sharp, prejudiced to a point. Maybe it was just the alcohol in him, but Dante noted the chauvinistic edge. And he had once been a lost and confused kid, thrown into the merciless world without any hand offered. Dante knew the fear in the boy’s eyes too well.

Alright, new plan then.

He lifted the boy into his arms. “Hang on tight, kid. It’s going to be a bit of a bumpy ride.”

\---

They were _flying._

He couldn’t believe it. They were actually on the air. His savior had wings! For a while all he could see and concentrate on were the clouds and the pure white moon. The orphanage looked tiny from up here, the adults even more so. The arms around him were strong and rigid. It was scaly too. Strange. He looked to the horizon, dark grey with the stars glittering far.

It lasted too short and his arm reminded him of its existence. His whimper was heard. After several more flying they descended.

The place was different. Rocks and trees that he never saw before, the sound of waters filling his ears. Under the moonlight, he saw his savior’s face once more. The soft light made his pale hair shone and he noticed it was the same color as his! His eyes were shrouded though. His wings were making shadows on the ground. He wore red, Nero never saw it on such being before. He was used to seeing white and gold.

Maybe not all of them liked that shade. Maybe this angel was not one from that place.

But he was sure this person was one because he had the wings and he looked so pretty! More beautiful even than those at the chapel and paintings.

He almost forgot about his arm when the person touched it. Lifting it so he could inspect it more. He hissed, the throbbing was still there, raging and jabbing. There were now strange scales on him, his nails turned sharper too. Longer even. His arm had turned ugly.

“No, it isn’t,” the person said. He was careful with holding it. “It’s not ugly, it’s just…” He sighed and his wings shuddered. “It’s just something that shouldn’t have been here this fast.”

The angel person looked at him. “I’m really sorry this happens to you, kid. I really do,” he said.

Why is he apologizing for? He didn’t do anything. It was him that did something wrong. His arm was turning out weird, after all, so he must have done something bad.

“Shit, oh, wait, no,” the person rubbed his face. “No, no, kid. Stop with that, it’s not your fault. You’re not a bad person that is being punished, alright? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

He didn’t understand, but he nodded. It felt good not to be scared every time someone older than him talked. The person turned his arm over and repeated the movement again as he went quiet. Eyes serious with his lips thinning. After a while, he eventually did something else.

“Hope this works,” he muttered to himself.

The boy watched as he picked up some wet dirt, then proceeded to write something on his arm. As he went on, the pain started to recede. He covered it completely with the dirt and by then, his eyelids drooped. The emptiness of that ever-present jab replaced with exhaustion. He felt sleepy suddenly. 

The teacher at the orphanage always warned the children not to trust strangers easily, but he couldn’t care less as he fell into the warm arms. They felt nice and he trusted this person more than anyone else he had ever met.

\---

Lady readied her gun when she heard something hit the roof. She was still in her nightclothes as she kicked the door open. The firearm’s safety clicked off.

“Dante?” She gasped.

The hunter waved lamely, dropping onto the hard floor. He had something in his arms. She put away her gun then quickly crossed over to him.

“What happened to you? What are you doing here?” She crouched, hands holding his shoulders. The bundle on her friend moved. “Dante, is that a child?!”

He didn’t answer her immediately. His wings disappearing in flickers of red and the man himself taking a breather. The coat gave way to a small boy, resting peacefully against him. Lady widened her eyes at the white hair.

“No, it’s not mine,” Dante huffed before she could ask, “and can we hold off the interrogation? I’m so beat right now and really like it if you lend me your bed or even couch.” He pushed himself up.

Lady noticed how he wobbled, legs barely holding his own weight with the child still in his arms. She never saw him like this often, his strength and stamina vastly better than any humans. To have Dante panting and lilting, well, Lady shut her mouth and automatically moved. The boy was pulled from him, barely twitched when she settled him against her shoulder. Dante didn’t even make a quip about it.

“Alright, come on, follow me,” she nodded towards the opened emergency door.

They went back to her apartment, the lights dimmed, and several things toppled over in her previous haste. There were books and papers scattered, the maps of several regions on the walls. She had been preparing for some jobs. A night owl by habit. There was only one cleared space, the floor sofa. She gently deposited the child on it, grabbing more pillows from her room as Dante plopped over also. He was giving her a thumb up when she returned with them and several blankets. She couldn’t hear his muffled words before he passed out.

The two were softly snoring, each on different stages of weariness. The woman carefully rearranged the way they slept; the boy pulled to lay fully on the sofa while hefting Dante to at least have his head on a pillow. Their weights differed greatly that she almost slipped when she dragged the older man. The child’s arm was belatedly noticed by her, Lady stopped for a moment before poking it once. A strange thing this was. It was obviously demonic, but it didn’t seem to be malicious either. The arm sat starkly against the child’s whole frame. There were muds on it, staining the sheets though Lady couldn’t be mad about it. Obviously from the scratches and scuffs, these two had been involved in something.

What, she didn’t know. Yet. Dante would need to give some explaining. It was only because it was him that she threw away the hesitance and suspicion. If it were anyone else, she would have called the authority along with not gracing them even one centimeter into her home. The neighbors were unperturbed this dead of the night, too used to the hustles and bustles in this part of the city. Lady locked her door, making sure that the windows were also. Dante didn’t show any sign he was being chased, too lax for him to be in one, so she forewent raising any kind of barrier. Besides, the thrums would highly likely disturb him and the boy.

The boy, right, Lady looked him over as she drank her tea. He had that same shade of hair and she had a feeling his eyes were the same deep blue hue. Dante already dashed her guessing the child was his doing, and Lady was inclined to believe him. The hunter might be flamboyant, but he never truly showed the interest. And that, well, _that_ led to one thing only. The most probable one and most likely despite the lack of immediate evidence. She wasn’t too sure. At any rate, the best thing to do now was to wait.

But the thought already entered her head. It was a bit of an incentive to have her grab a drink. Strong but not too much, she chose wine. As the red liquid greeted her tongue, Lady vaguely noticed Dante smelled strongly of its specific content.

\---

He was having his time at the sweet, sweet embrace of dreamland but of course, reality was unkind to him. It came with a harsh shake. Long enough for him to begrudgingly peel his eyelids open. Lady’s face greeted him under the morning light.

“Get up,” she said. Commanded, really.

The pillow was abandoned in favor of the black, bitter liquid she put into his hand. The mug was a faded blue color, the polka dots already halfway gone. He sipped it as Lady put the phone back.

“Morning,” he tried.

“Morrison called,” she started, “asking for you and he has bad news. The shop came under attack, he could see demons barging in and turned the place upside down. He couldn’t come closer; they were still loitering, and he decided to try to look for you.” Lady crossed her arms. Dante could see the eyebags.

He sighed, “Shit, where is he now?”

“Far away from the shop, at that one street. He’s having breakfast,” Lady replied. “Says he’s not going to go hungry watching over your poor shop. The last time he checked again, only a few demons sniffed around. Probably looking for you.”

And this had started to become a lovely day indeed. He didn’t want to think about all those damages. The coffee was depleted in one gulp, the mug deposited onto the table before he stood up.

“What the hell have you put yourself into, Dante?” Lady followed him to the door.

His red coat was hung there, probably shed last night on the floor. He grabbed it.

“That is something that I’ll tell you later,” he sighed again. “Promise, I know I already owe you one,” he looked to her when she had her reserved face for him.

“Fine, but you’re not going to leave again without telling me what’s going on. The boy can stay here for a while, I’m not going anywhere,” Lady conceded. She glanced at the sleeping lump, “It’s not going to be pretty when he wakes up though.”

Dante sighed. Again. He had a feeling he would do that a lot today. “I know, but this is my shop that we’re talking about and I don’t want to get sued or blamed for the demons having their fun jolly time there. Just contain him for three hours and I promise I’ll pay you back for this.”

He opened the door, already moving to go to the roof. He recuperated enough to be able to fly.

“Do you even know his name?” Lady called out to him.

Dante sighed (see?), answering her over his shoulder. “Not yet,” he said and made his way upstairs.

He didn’t hear Lady’s reaction. Summoning his power once more, he let it envelop him and he went off. From the distance, he could see the shop. Ruined with smokes loomed over.

The devil hunter sighed. Yet again.

Rebellion, Ebony, and Ivory were quickly found after he kicked several of the hellions away. They immediately noticed him, attacking with all the brawn. It was little challenge for him. Rebellion swung, decapitating them. The rest were taken care of by his guns, filling them all with bullets. Morrison was right, these guys were the only ones left. Their ashes mingled with the debris Devil May Cry had become. Small fires peppered the place, burning on the cracked wood and shredded furniture. The windows were all shattered, the curtains completely destroyed, and he could see even his wallpapers weren’t spared. The place was thoroughly wrecked.

Dante walked to his desk, miraculously intact, only got toppled over. He opened the drawer, finding his old glove and the picture frame. They smelled a bit burnt, he grimaced. Pocketing them into his coat, he checked the rest. His bar was in memoriam, the liquid drenching the shelves. The basement was almost caved in, he grabbed the Devil Arms with him as he went upstairs. The railings were all gone now. The storage didn’t fare better, several claw marks marring everything. That was fine, those were all junks anyway. The bedroom was the one he was the most worried. 

He sighed a relief when it was relatively untouched. There were some ashes spots, demons that tried to pick at his stuff and got fried for it. The spells paid off; he had spent days lacing them onto his personals. The case was thrown open, Dante putting his clothes and memorabilia into it. The Devil Arms would just have to deal with being cramped for a while. After that, the hunter put his attention on the chest under the bed. He pulled it out, the mahogany as perfect and regal with its carvings as ever.

It once belonged to his mother.

Slowly, he unlocked it with his blood. The needle hidden under the rose ornament. A pile of books and several glass boxes were there. Undisturbed and in pristine condition. He rubbed the topmost book, a thin one compared with the rest. He weighted it before closing the chest once more. The sounds of the mechanism slotting back satisfying. He carried it along with his case downstairs, depositing them by the doorless front entrance before he went to the source of this all.

At the corner of the first floor, near where he kept his plants (also killed of course, because nothing spelled repulsive to a demon than a mere sign of life), the circle was there. Still glowing and attracting supernatural being like a beacon. One that he had stupidly left on accident. A rookie mistake, an amateur blunder. He did go out without cutting off its resource rune and his blood was still a puddle nearby. How clumsy he was, more so than usual – at least, normally he would know where to empty his stomach when the alcohol reigned over him or where to find the smoothest surface to pass out.

This was just plain unintelligent at a new level. Rule number one for scribing was to always stop and destroy the circle if you had no further need for it or risk an accident waiting to happen. His mother would have been pinching his ear at this.

Could he do _anything_ remotely correct?

The circle was roughly rubbed off. His sole scraping until the floor surface peeled more. The puddle was dried with a rag he found. It was chucked to one of the small embers still alive. He hefted his two cases outside. The shop’s sign was ruined, the lamp cracking and metalwork seemed to make a sad little face. Dante would like to mourn over his business but there were people who started crowding, now that the last of the demons were gone and the street became relatively safe again. He booked it, not wanting to be pinned down by the whispers, gossips, and maybe several complaints. Even lawsuits. His neighbors were all virtually jerks.

Morrison met him some streets away, leaning against his car roof. A smoke in hand.

“Dante,” he tipped his hat. He looked amused.

“Morrison,” the hunter greeted back. His mother’s chest and his own suitcase in both hands. He was starting to look like a homeless. The soot and dusty coat helped with the image.

“Thanks for calling about the shop,” he said and nodded gratefully when the informant opened the car trunk.

“No problem, I thought you were in there. Having a party of your own,” Morrison joked when the two climbed inside. “They really seemed ravenous and excited. I saw them throwing your potted plants to the street.”

Ah, so those strange dirt piles had been his plants? He really wanted to scream. Those were pricey ones and he prided himself to keep them vibrant. Not to mention, surviving in unfavorable environment. They were all gone now, as per usual whenever he thought to put attention on things.

“I’m gonna miss those babies. What did you want to meet me for? Another job?” He asked, leaning against his palm.

“Yes, something like that, but well, I think you do not need them right now,” he looked him over. “So, where to?”

“Lady’s place,” he said.

The car pulled into the traffic. Less crowded in the late morning. He lowered himself when they passed his former building. Groups of people were gathered, some police and one firefighter truck parked at the front. He could see his pesky neighbors standing around, sniffing and looking on with disdain. Yeah, well, screw them. They weren’t the nicest bunch when he first settled himself there.

“You really got yourself in a real twist here, Dante,” Morrison commented when they were near the apartment complex. “You sure you’re going to be alright?”

Oh, he was sure that he would somehow mess this up even more. Or not. Who knows, he didn’t count the capriciousness of fate. He could bet sweet money that they wouldn’t be easy to him though. What an assuring thought.

“You know me, Morrison,” he shrugged and opened the car door, “I’ll figure something. I always do.”

The man raised his brow but didn’t talk about it further. Morrison was a nice man that way. Knowing when to leave things be, magnanimous enough to offer bits of a helping hand. Like the ride just now. Dante could appreciate that; he was really a good business partner. Could do with less smoking though, the smell followed him everywhere.

“Alright, thanks, Morrison,” he said with hand extended. “I’ll call you when everything settles down.”

Morrison shook it, “Hopefully not for long. You’re still someone I can count on taking those jobs.”

The devil hunter didn’t grace any confirmation or promise. He wasn’t going to give him false hopes. He chose to smile, nodding his goodbye and waited until the car was gone before ringing Lady’s apartment. He passed by several children in uniforms and their parents as he called the elevator. The song inside that box was too cheery for today’s mood. Twice he got stares, the nosy ones from a grandma who got off on the third floor with the hallway looking like the one from the Shining and a stocky man with a very strong herring smell. They didn’t even have any nearby ocean, good grief. He arrived on Lady’s floor and took a deep breath after the elevator was closed.

When his hand came to knock, his ears picked the voices from the inside. One louder than the other. He rubbed his face, took a deep, deep breath before rapping his hand on the wood. Lady greeted him and over her head, he could see the little boy was wide awake. His arm clutched to his chest with blue eyes that reminded Dante too much of a raw past.

\---

He had almost wanted to bolt when he saw the person again.

The lady was nice, but he wasn’t going to trust her yet. He didn’t know where he was and while she wasn’t looking angry, grown-ups scared him. His arm was not hurting anymore though, making him able to stand and rush towards the white-haired man.

“Hey, kid, I see you’re wide awake,” the man said, and he put his hand on his head. “How’s your arm? Good? Are you hungry?” He crouched down to him.

His stomach rumbled right after the question. He felt his face heated up.

“Ah, thought so. Hey, Lady, do you have any food for this little guy?”

“I have some crackers and porridge. Let’s put something in him, he looks way too skinny for his age,” the lady answered.

He followed the man to what was he guessed to be the kitchen. It was different, smaller than the one back at the orphanage. The table was cold, stone rather than wood. The plates and bowls were more colorful, he could see the spoons also had decorations on them. His chair was comfortable with small padding on it. The man sat beside him, holding him from falling while the other ladled something from the stove. He swung his legs, making sure to sit properly and quiet.

When the steaming bowl arrived, his mouth watered. He really was hungry, yet he was strong enough to hold himself from digging in.

“Well, go on,” the lady said. “You can eat all of them. Careful though, it’s still hot.”

He shook his head, staying still. “The head nurse said we have to wait until everyone’s seated first,” he looked to her. “We can’t eat yet.”

The man chuckled. He didn’t understand and he tilted his head.

“Oh, no, you aren’t doing anything funny, kid. Relax,” he grabbed his own bowl. “Lady, you should get your chair, kid looks so hungry already.”

She shrugged, dragging another seat and settled herself on it. At her raised brow, he then brought his spoon to his mouth. Careful to blow at it. He never had this kind of hot food, usually they were lukewarm at best. The oatmeal tasted sweet! There were sliced bananas and strawberries too.

“Whoa, slow down, kid. No one is going to steal it from you,” the man’s hand wiped his mouth with a towel. “You really have a big stomach there, huh?”

The porridge was so good, he licked it clean. The breakfast was really, really delicious. He put the spoon inside the empty bowl. They were pushed towards the lady.

“Thank you for the food,” he said. As clear as he could be. “It was really nice.”

“Do you want a second one?” She asked. Picking up his bowl.

A second one? He was allowed? The lady was too nice! But he already felt too full. “No, thank you. It was enough, ma’am.”

The man chuckled again. He still didn’t understand why.

“Well, now food’s done and over with,” the man clasped his hand. “Could you tell me your name, kid? I’ll go first, the name’s Dante and this is Lady,” he pointed to him and then her.

“Of course, you didn’t even ask for his name first,” the Lady (what a strange name) sighed.

“Hey, it hadn’t been the best of time. Gimme a break,” the man, _Dante,_ shrugged. His pale white hair seemed to shine under the sunlight, just like before. “So, what is yours? I can’t keep calling you ‘kid’ forever.”

He looked down, playing with his fingers before he looked up once more. “Nero. My name is Nero,” he said.

“Nero, huh?” Dante repeated. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Nero,” he grabbed his hand. His right one and shook it. The claws looked small in comparison.

He wanted to talk more. To thank him and ask him who he really was. Why did he save him and what would happen to him now, but it was the first time he had such a huge breakfast. His eyelids drooped as he yawned.

“Ah, you’re sleepy again? Figures, one gotta nap after eating that much,” Dante offered him his hands. He grabbed them, allowing himself to be carried over to the plush pillows. They felt soft against his skin. The blanket was heavier, covering him fully unlike his old one. He wondered if he could stay like this forever.

Once again, he chose to close his eyes despite being surrounded by strangers. But they didn’t seem like bad people, they treated him even better than the staffs and nurses at that place.

Nero sniffed and snuggled deeper. Welcoming sleep’s return.

\---

Two glasses already graced the kitchen island when Lady emerged from her bedroom. Nero safely tucked in. She wagered the sofa could only be nice to rest in for so long.

“No, thanks,” Lady refused the offered glass with the amber liquid. “And don’t you dare take another bottle from me.”

Dante shrugged, chugging the glass in one go, and stopped refilling it anymore. He sat himself on the couch, having the pillows and blankets to busy himself with their threads. The hunter waited for Lady to sit on the opposite, a short chair with the varnish peeling. She had her big cup of tea which she sipped from noisily while staring at him over the rim.

“So,” Lady started after putting the mug down, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on here now?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I’m going to but promise me that you’ll listen to the very end before you do anything,” at Lady’s raised brow, he added, “Calmly.”

The woman was no hothead by a stretch, but she could be testy whenever Dante did something inherently questionable. Well, he couldn’t exactly blame her, sometimes _he_ was the one who wanted to punch himself. A wonderful relationship he had with himself.

The hunter leaned more into the couch, taking a breath before telling her the overall picture on how Dante had managed to acquire a kid in the span of one night. He went back to the previous day, starting from the moment Lady left and he chose to have a private party. The details of the mental decorations were omitted due to reasons, yet Dante trusted Lady enough about his knowledge and the subsequent action he took. They had more than one occasion coming together on getting out of sticky situations with that particular skill of his. Something he appreciated from her; other hunters would be attracted to that like ants to anything sugary. Dante didn’t want any more ‘partners’.

Too many people would only spell trouble and he had was intimate with the cloak of death. Poisonous to those within his radius. Somehow, Lady and Morrison were the exception – probably because they were insane and buddy-buddy with it. Dante didn’t want to spend time mulling over it. The less he understood, the better.

“You were intoxicated, weren’t you?” Lady sighed. “I mean, even more than before I left for home,” the tea was gulped down fast.

Dante rubbed his neck, “I guess so,” he said.

“It’s not even a guess, I know you were completely slammed,” she cupped the mug. It was from the better ones than the one she gave his coffee in this morning. “Dante, have mercy on your kidney and liver.”

“Demonic healing, Lady, you know that,” he pointed at his chest.

“Does that mean it’s a challenge?” She countered.

 _Sometimes,_ he wanted to say, but the joke fell flat. Instead, he chose, “Nope, but we’ve been flirting a lot and I think we have done all the bases.”

“Shit, Dante,” Lady shook her and finished her beverage.

They didn’t talk for a few minutes as she put her mug to the sink. The overhead cabinet was opened, the biscuit tin taken out before she returned to her seat. Dante refused the proffered butter biscuit.

“The boy,” Lady started again as she nibbled a cookie. Nervous eating, Dante noted, his friend’s usual tick. “Was it really bad there?”

Dante nodded. Even when he hadn’t got a full glimpse. “It was, kid was scared and practically begged me to not bring him back.” And Dante was partial to believe little children like Nero. He had been one, a well-off child that became orphaned street rat in a blink of an eye. He knew and understood that look. That desperation to want to get away.

“Figures. It must be hard for him especially with the white hair and all that,” Lady gestured to her arm. “I’m kinda surprised he didn’t get exorcised for that,” she picked another biscuit. “By the way, how are you sure he is your nephew?”

Lady never mentioned ‘brother’ or ‘twin’, never anything of the like. If someone casually mentioned Arkham to her, she would also not be happy. Let them speak nothing of that pass and all that. Spoke no evil.

“I just know,” Dante answered. “He has everything of a Sparda lineage, and I can sense faint demonic blood in him.”

“I can see that, yeah, but how can you be so sure?” Lady rested her arms on her knees. “Do you want to have some test done? I heard they are pretty advanced with that nowadays.”

He bristled. “Am I that untrustworthy? Are you really willing to put the kid back to an orphanage?”

“No, I’m not, Dante,” she held out her hands. “But even you know that it is best to be completely sure. Having that demonic arm doesn’t instantly confirm he is family, after all.”

“But it is.”

The streets below were bustling with cars honking that Lady roughly closed the balcony. She put her hand on her hip. “What?” She asked.

“I said, it is,” Dante rubbed his face. “That arm showed up because of me. I did that,” he looked down to the floor. His foot was antsy, tapping rapidly on the carpet. “I did that with the magic I pulled.”

“But that sounded like a normal spell that used more intricacy, what do-”

“It was from my mother’s red book.” He said. Admitted, really. Useless keeping that one specific piece from her.

Lady stopped herself and sighed. This time it was her that rubbed her face deeply with her hands. Dante hunched slightly when she looked at him once more. Confusion, comprehension, and realization passing through like a chameleon changing shades.

“You used _that_ book?”

“… Yes.”

The alcohol was pulled out in the end. She poured herself a full glass of wine and made to sit beside Dante. She sipped it, slowly as if weighing something massive in her mind. Then, the glass was placed on the coffee table.

“Shit, Dante,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you were that badly off, you dumbass.”

The hunter exhaled, picking up the glass and gulped half of it down. He wiped his mouth while he patted her hand.

“Me neither, Lady,” he chuckled. “Me neither.”

\---

The shop was visited one more time in the dead of the night. When he knew his former neighbors had retreated into their own places and slept through while snoring like pigs. Or even maybe paid some visit at the local brothels a couple blocks away. Rude, annoying, and also, unfaithful spouses. He snorted at the thought, still remembered how they fed their own rumor mill for days whenever Lady stopped by and hung around. At the third time, he already grown used and ignored them fully. These people and him were strangers, their words meant nothing to him and they were too scared to tarnish his shop’s name to boot. So, they only stewed and found cheap entertainment as soon as Lady or any other woman (even men sometimes) visited the shop. Lovely people they were.

Lady lent him her motorbike. It was parked in the alley, carefully covered as it rained when he arrived. The building slowly collected water puddles, mingling with the debris. If he were to return and fix things, these would add to the cost of renovating, no slash that, rebuilding the whole shop. Demons really had it out for him, huh? Well, they wouldn’t have destroyed his mean of business if he didn’t forget _that_ step. It did happen though, he had nothing but himself to blame – which was a bit unfair, he whined. 

There were several papers he grabbed from his desk drawers. Important stuffs, like what adults would say. Identification mostly, and all those bureaucratic ones. While a certain person liked to deem him to be quite foolish, Dante would pay to see the look on his face when he saw how much Dante was meticulous where it counted. He was no mess when it concerned his jobs, damn it. Why would anyone think he sucked at them when he managed to _own_ his very shop from the start? Sometimes, these flimsy papers were the tiny satisfactions he could have. Little gold stars that said ‘good fucking job, at least you managed to function normally’ in that part of his life.

Some bullets and casings were miraculously unscathed, along with a shotgun and a rifle. He covered the sawed-off latter with a sheet he brought while the old Winchester he hefted over his shoulder. The name on each firearms’ handle was enough of a reminder for him to not forget about them and his two ladies. Ebony and Ivory nestled on his hip, loyal and well-taken care of. The usual case on the wall was destroyed, even the metal hanger was bent. That was a pretty good one too, able to withstand the heavier Devil Arms when he hung one or two.

After seeing he didn’t have anything to salvage anymore, he returned to the bike and was surprised to see the cat sitting on it.

“Sorry, old boy,” he shooed it away. “You have to look somewhere else for scraps.” It meowed as he revved the engine.

Morrison was next to be dealt with. The informant didn’t mind having him on hiatus, he had other hunters that would gladly fill his place. His list was a good one, infamous due to Morrison’s elusiveness for contact. It was a wonder why the man stuck with Dante – the red hunter didn’t think it was worth to inquire either way.

“So, where are you going to stay?” Morrison asked over the phone. It didn’t feel as right as his old timey one.

Dante flicked a glance, “I’m at Lady’s place for the moment. I’ll contact you when everything settles down again,” he didn’t mention about Nero. The child was sitting on the kitchen stool, following Lady’s direction to make some cupcakes. “You sure you want to wait indefinitely, Morrison? It will take a while.”

He heard a chuckle. “Don’t sweat it, I know how to do my job without you as my main client, Dante,” there was a noisy exhale of smoke, “besides, you are the one that can take on the more difficult missions without any injuries. I get better revenue when you do them, but it’s fine, you just take care of whatever business that you need to attend to. I’ll keep a spot open for you.”

“Thanks a lot, Morrison. Really, I mean it,” Dante sighed and rubbed his head. Morrison only laughed, telling him best of luck, and they ended their conversation.

Lady raised her brow, “So, that’s everything?”

Dante shrugged, “Yeah, guess so. He sounds fine with all this,” he nodded. “Are you making chocolate ones?” He asked Nero.

“Yes,” the boy answered, “Mister Dante.”

Gods, he sounded so polite. Lady was called ‘ma’am’ by him. It was admittedly too damn cute, especially when it was mealtime. Nero would be trying his best to eat properly and even his seating was prim. There was that hesitance and the need to impress also. Something less endearing. The boy seemed scared they wouldn’t like him, that _Dante_ would change his mind and send him to live somewhere else. He couldn’t blame the child. Being whisked away, then put in a completely different environment was overwhelming.

Nero was younger by a year from him when he lost everything. Seven years old, he mentioned. Giving Lady and Dante the exact fingers. He was small, seemingly stunted from growing. Clothes were baggy for the pants and tight for the shirt sleeves. The cape was already chucked to the trash, dirtied by the recent event yet the white had long faded to murky grey. Dante didn’t have any child size clothing, making for a short trip to a store with Lady. The embarrassment they both had when the salesperson had that distinct ‘aww, this couple is married’ kind of smile was enough to conclude not bringing Nero along was infinitely a good call. The boy was anxious when he stepped into the hallway, hiding behind Dante whenever Lady’s neighbors passed by. The traffic with all the noises the city made magnified that feeling more. The two returned within an hour. Unsurprisingly with Nero still at the same spot from last time and even told them he moved away for the bathroom and a glass of water. Completely different from the general impression regarding kids his age.

Maybe the television loved the histrionics of children. Little hellions they were and all that. Dante never did really understand the humor behind those. Felt as if the parents on those drama shows didn’t actually want children. Curious thing. His mother never made him felt that way despite Dante being especially difficult at times. Exasperated, sure, yet always, always, with that warmth. But Nero wasn’t like him and definitely wasn’t prone to create ruckus. He was too quiet sometimes though, needing to be prodded to talk and speak his mind more. Timid but Dante saw his flickers of interest and enthusiasm as he gradually became comfortable.

The boy liked to trail after him around and followed Dante with his eyes. His gait wasn’t affected by his new arm despite the appearance. He did need to learn to be careful, his claws weren’t exactly dull. Nero only allowed Dante to hold it, giving him a check-over and elevating the periodic throbs. Lady always chuckled behind her hands. Snorting ironically when he did that while Nero tried his hardest to get him to admit that he was some kind of an ‘angel’. He didn’t want to burst his bubble, yet the amount of sheer sureness reflected in those eyes made him squirmed. Lady was not that heartless on leaving him, fortunately magnanimous enough to steer the topic away when it went on longer.

Nero liked to sleep. He didn’t believe the boy was deprived of it. There were indeed places that did such as punishment. Yet that wasn’t likely the case, it was more on the notion that he felt completely safe and didn’t have to look out for himself. Dante couldn’t sense his demonic blood completely awakening yet, but there was that tiny, relieved purr the boy made. Not a sigh, a legit _purr._ He had that sound again when he turned in for the night, now sleeping in a new pajama. Dante huffed, trying to send a comforting pulse of his own aura to make sure Nero’s demon didn’t become frantic as he turned the lights off and closed the door.

The sofa was occupied by Lady, already snoozing off with a headphone. She was a light sleeper. The weather was damp and cool after a long rain, the moon peeking out. The air filled with the usual pollution with that stink clogging everything. It was typical. He leaned on the balcony, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the railings.

There were things to be done from here on out. Those concerning a new living place and detailed finances now that he had another person with him. Nero would stay, that much he knew. Wanted. This demanded him to be active, needling him to have the capability of a functioning grown man, lest he ended up dooming them both. The boy didn’t deserve it. He had to search for properties and visit them to evaluate. There was a consideration that maybe he could use his old connections, but those probably already forgot about him. Not to mention several were acquainted with the mercenaries. He might not be using the name ‘Tony’ anymore, yet his traits could be easily distinguished. That option was scrapped.

Scouting for new environments were needed. He might be strong and demons were less prone to attack him out of the blue, but Nero was a young child. Safe surrounding was a must. Being related to him practically indicated he could be a target. There was also the problem with education and schooling, he didn’t know much about those. Had no experience whatsoever. Other responsibilities would spring their heads up along the way too. People would also talk and that meant the two would get scrutiny from nosy busybodies. A person such as him with devil hunting as a profession didn’t spark confidence in child rearing now, would it?

But again, he wouldn’t put Nero away in some institution even when it had good integrity. They shared a fate in being abandoned by that person. Left behind as if they were nothing but mere hindrances. Did that asshole even know he had a son? Or did he just knock down some poor girl during his raging hormones? He probably didn’t even care enough. Glacial, frigid, bastard that he was. He almost felt sorry for Nero to have that kind of person contributed to his existence. Along with the blood he was blessed with. (Dante snorted at his own joke.)

On the concern of monetary, well, the only skill Dante knew was swinging his sword and firing his guns to every ugly demon he was requested to slay. It brought a high he enjoyed. A strong feeling that he still was breathing, aside from eating through fats and carbs with diabetes goodness. And the bitter alcohol, of course, couldn’t leave that one out. The city offered its share of vices and entertainment through the colorful clients Morrison brought. He had long decided to make this as his base.

Yet looking at how easy his place got wrecked and the strangers that he never liked, the devil hunter wondered if it was time to lift the anchor. To follow the waves, opening his sails once more.

Dante had a feeling he would inevitably rot away if he forced himself to stay. He had no roots here, nothing of sever importance. Lady wouldn’t mind or care with how he went about and Morrison more so. They were broken people, coming to know each other through this career that couldn’t even be called one. It was a lifestyle, embedded deep due to survival, grief, and to an extend shrewd philanthropy. Maybe Dante was a bit different, yet he was no saint. He just had always hated demons. A diabolical thing he chose and was also cursed with.

There were nomad devil hunters, he heard of them. Going from place to place where they saw fit, where they were asked to. They lived in rented places or trailers, never stayed too long. Always moving. There was a level of savviness concerning that kind of life. Contrary to popular belief, Dante wasn’t particularly wasteful or blundering. There was a saving he kept because living in the streets and later under someone else’s roof meant you had to have an extra one. Circumstances changed so easily; he had long learned about it. One thing that technically would be harder for him was that he had Nero.

Would he be alright? Would Dante be capable taking care of a child on the road? So many things to consider and they didn’t officially start yet.

One decision he found from staring into a bottle and that all had snowballed. Ah, he thought, this all started because of this thing. The crystal still faintly glowed as he pulled it out from his coat’s pocket. The yellow wisp swirled inside, no longer as vivid the first time around. He might have thrown it away for some catharsis, but it was from the high-quality ones. His mother would tut and pluck them from his wily hands whenever he found the glass cases.

He smiled at the memory, rubbing the crystal until he noticed the runes. One line was wrong, the tricky curve mistaken for another. It stood for ‘call out’ rather than what he intended. Dante couldn’t believe it; he literally committed a _typo._

That definitely was _not_ a nice implication. Maybe it was due time to do a small divorce with his drinks, this had to take the cake. He should also put a warning sign on that innocuous red book whenever he even remotely touched it. Dante couldn’t afford to fuck things up more for the sake of Nero and himself. Okay, maybe privately, he could, but not Nero. Being a disaster wouldn’t help his revenge towards that one wonderful twin of his that left him with all these problems. (It was childish, but he thought he could afford to be considering how easily Vergil sulked when he didn’t get what he wanted back then). A revenge that he could do something notable in this weird life. That Dante might be the dumb younger brother, but he sure as hell was no dead beat like Sparda and Vergil.

The rune was erased, replaced with the correct one. Dante had nothing to do this late, and perchance now that he was not drunk with an obviously clear mind, he would see something better. Nostalgic yet good. He deserved that after the hectic week he had.

The crystal pinged on his energy, lighting up more and floated on his palms. He tried to think of lush garden, twinkling smiles under the sun, with the smell of food and soft humming in the kitchen. Wanted to make them manifest – a live album. What he got was a stone that had its light casted into seven. Each showed different direction with the red turning into deep blue the farther it went.

He studied the fixed rune. Certain that he did them correctly this time. It was. He didn’t get it, he wrote ‘wish’ in there. The curvature rightly drawn this time. He still didn’t understand.

But he should have.

_“They can be a fickle thing, dear,” Eva once said to him. Her hand closing the small crimson book. She always put that one in the chest. “They are what you intended them to be. Spells are merely an extension of your will and prowess, but sometimes…” She patted his head, “Well, sometimes-”_

“…sometimes they understand you more than yourself,” Dante whispered. That one rune seemed to wink at him, reminding him of its duality. It could be read as ‘wish’ but the dead language had another meaning, ‘search’. A limitation of terminology when the ancient generation yonder created their own characters.

The craft she taught him was not all set in stone, it was fluid and on a mysterious level, sentient enough. The phenomenon before him was a testament for that. And without further confirmation, he _knew_ the changing shade from crimson to deep azure meant one thing. One thing only.

Even invisible and possibly beyond mortal reach, his brother once more gave him another blow. No, not particularly that, more like a push. A reinforced thought that they would always be each other’s business and problem. A bane and a boon wrapped up in neat bow ever since they arrived in this world. Nonetheless, Dante answered to it in spite them all. His twin should be _thankful_ he had quite the daft little brother.

The shuffling of papers woke Lady up. Her maps were strewn onto the table with a compass, she saw the quartz floating on top.

“Dante?” She groggily asked as she put her headphones away. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer her immediately, mouth biting onto a marker cap. A piece of paper was being hurriedly written on; Lady noticed his hand putting down geographic cardinal directions. She looked on, wondering where this sudden burst of energy came from. When Dante finished, he put the marker down and turned to her, eyes gleaming under the low light. They made him happily dejected if that made sense. A thrumming that he was tired to stop. His face also said, ‘I would probably regret this but fuck it’.

Lady raised her brow as he smiled lopsidedly. His hand palming the crystal close.

“Say, Lady,” Dante said, “Can you do me one simple favor?”

And it dawned on her that he was planning something irreversible on the horizon.

The cherry on top? For once, Dante was _not_ drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the AU no one asked for! :D.  
> I have decided due to the virus that shan't be named, I'll be living vicariously through Dante and Nero visiting wild destinations. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are deeply appreciated.  
> Thank you for reading!  
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/blankballs) and [My Tumblr](https://cassia-bea.tumblr.com/)


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